Untitled Romance
by 16aqua
Summary: Alice is the kind of girl who has been through such an abusive relationship that she no longer trusts men. That includes gentelmen Jack Dawson. But as the Titanic tragedy begins to unfold, will she be able to look past that in order to stay alive? R&R!


**A/N: Wow, I haven't written anything in the longest frigging time. I've got to say, I was re-reading all of my Titanic stuff and I guess I decided that it was about time I updated something or wrote something. So...I don't know how this will turn out, but if you want, stick with me.**

I climbed aboard the _Titanic_, ignoring the man who asked me if I had gone through inspection yet. I pushed my ticket into his hand and brushed past him, searching the third class corridors for my cabin. Ignorant men were standing in the hallways, blowing smoke into my face as I passed by. I responded to none of it however, biting back my anger and concentrating on the task at hand. At least I _tried_ to make in through the hallways, until I was thrown to the floor and my sack flipped over my head.

"Oops, shit, sorry miss." A man apologized, his arm gripping mine as he helped me to my feet.

"Nice job jack ass." I snapped, reaching up to adjust the sack back over my shoulders.

"Well you're half right." He replied, taking the bag off my head and putting it over my shoulders where it had originally resided. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"You're a bit ignorant aren't you, Dawson?" I shot, studying his features.

He had sandy brown hair that curved around and slightly covered up his dull green eyes. How droll. He looked like any average guy I had ever been forced to encounter, all of them had been arrogant assholes.

"No, not really." He answered with a shrug. "Well, I'll be seeing you...Miss...?"

Should I really even bother giving him my name? What would be the point of that? I probably wouldn't even see him again on this bloody ship. It was big, and there were a lot of people. What were the chances?

"Alice McCain." I replied, monotone, ignoring his outstreched hand.

With that I turned on my heel and stormed away from Dawson, he was no longer any concern of mine. I had a reason to be on this ship, just like everybody else, and he was not to be a part of it. I continued along the hallways, searching all the numbered plates outside the doors until I found my bedroom number. 360. Boring. I pushed open the door and found, but of course, more men. One was settled on his bed picking something out from between his toes and another was sniffing his armpits. Why the hell would these crewmen shove me in a room with men?

I climbed up onto the top bunk, wiping away some of the hair strands left by one of the men in the room off the bed sheets before dumping my sack on the soft, cushiony pillow. I pulled out a picture from my knapsack and stared at the image. The man in the picture had his arm wrapped around me, his dark hair and eyes staring at the camera with this kind of evil glare on his face. It suited him perfectly. His tattered clothing seemed to accomodate the pale skin and the cigarette between his middle and index fingers.

I, on the other hand, was actually smiling, my dark brown hair in small waves around my face, brightening my already shimmering blue eyes. My fingers seemed small as they streched across the man's strong chest and...

I stopped, gripping the picture in my hands. The door burst open again and I saw Dawson's sandy hair reappear.

"Oh! Hello again!" He said pleasently, tossing his stuff in the bunk below mine.

"Hi." I said, my voice full of bitterness and loathing.

He leaned over the top of the bars and eyed the photo in my hands.

"Do you mind?" I shot, gripping the photo harder.

"Need a lighter?" He inquired, tossing one up that I barely caught in my hands.

I turned the lighter over in my finger tips, spotting the J.D. engraved in the bottom of it. What was he playing at? Where did he get off being nice to me? He probably just wanted sex. What a pervert. Even so I took the lighter and made my way past the crowds of people until I reached the top deck. The ship had already set sail, and the Queensland port had begun to disappear in the horizon. I leaned over the railing and held the lighter in my hand and the picture in the other. Before I could think twice, I sparked the lighter and set fire to the photo. The memory would soon be gone...

Gasping, as if realizing finally what I was doing, I began to shake the picture back and forth until the flame finally died out. It was charred no doubt, the right side of the man's body was partially missing, but it was otherwise unharmed. I clutched the picture to my chest and exhaled heavily, climbing down off the railing and nearly crashing into Dawson again.

"Son of a bitch!" I cursed, tucking the picture into my back pocket.

"Jesus, I'm sorry." He was beginning to sound irritated.

I shoved the lighter into his hands and started off down the side of the ship again.

"Hey! Wait up!" He called.

What the hell did he want from me?! This was really starting to get on my nerves. I had enough problems with guys to last me a lifetime, I didn't need any more for this asshole. There was only one universal description for guys, and that was this;

Guys Are Stupid

There was no way to put it any simpler, guys were stupid. I hated each and every one of them...well...almost every guy. _He_ was still part of me, and I had the proof of that statement. Dawson caught up with me a moment later, placing his hand on my shoulder. I immidietaly removed it with more force then was necessary, my eyes surely on fire and glaring.

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice to you. What the hell is your problem?"

"_You_ are my problem!" I was shouting now, taking steps back and trying to get away from him. "You have been following me around for the past ten minutes for god knows what reason-"

"I want to know why you are so bitter towards me! I've done nothing to you!" He cut me off, his free arm waving over his head.

In the other hand he clutched some sort of sketch book, maybe he was an artist or something to that extent. Even more of a reason for him to try and get me out of my pants. His hands suddenly dropped and his eyes became fixated on the rest of my body.

"Do you mind?" I glared, turning around.

"Why are you dressed like a boy?" He asked quietly, almost as if he was afraid to ask.

"Because I don't have money to afford a dress!" I was half lying.

I didn't have money to afford a dress, but I was wearing my ex-boyfriend's shirt, the pants, however, were mine. Dawson's eyes were drilling into mine, as if he were trying to figure me out by just looking into my eyes. What the hell did he know? He was just another stupid guy looking for a girl to screw. Sure, I sound very judgemental and rude, but what _did _he know? He didn't know me, and that's how it was going to stay. I didn't want to know him, but he sure was interested in getting to know me.

"Just..." I tried softening my tone, just this once. "...just leave me alone."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I didn't give him a chance. I turned on my heel once more and pratically sprinted down the sides of the ship, nearly knocking people over in my desperation to get away from Dawson. I finally wound up in one of the richer parts of the ship, getting dirty looks and evil glares from everybody sitting around the area, but I wasn't bothered by it. In fact I was quite used to it. I sat down on one of the railings again and pulled the charred picture out from my pocket. I eyed Marcus with his arm around me, and his malevolent look on his face.

I never believed that look could have existed.

**A/N: alright that's it for now, wow it HAS been awhile since I updated or posted anything, so I hope this lifts some of your spirits. Send me some reviews, I want at least three before I decide to put up another chapter. I know this one wasn't too long, the other one's will be much better. I just thought I'd see how many people I got interested in this story.**

**Peace, Love, and Pie**

**-16aqua-**


End file.
